Mouth
by DemonRyu
Summary: Seifer is full of regrets, but this is one memory that haunts him constantly. Seifer/Squall


**_all your mental armor drags me down  
we can't breathe when you come around  
all your mental armor drags me down  
nothing hurts like your mouth  
_** Bush - Mouth

I loved that lean body, especially when it was under mine, hips arching upward to meet my thrusts, mouth locked against my own. His mouth… Hyne, is there any way to describe what he could do with his lips? 

That's what caught me, the first fucking day, quicksilver eyes and pouty lips pressed together in a displeased line as he looked me over: his new sparring partner. "So, you're Seifer Almasy." I smiled and he just lifted a brow, obviously not amused. 

"So, who pissed in your cereal this morning?" Of course, I'd meant it as friendly conversation, but he didn't see it that way. Squall never saw anything the way you'd expect him to. Instead of responding, he just turned around, about to walk off. "Don't be full of yourself, sweetheart," I taunted, "we know who chose this weapon first."

…and that would be the first time Squall launched himself at me.

Of course, we knew of each other, but hadn't really met until today. It was when I was walking back to my room that I realized what I'd just done: I'd gotten through to 'the iceberg'.   
_I could get under his skin_  
That pleased me.

The next day, he was ready. Leather wrapped around his body like armor, hair hiding his eyes from me; I knew one of them was purple, just as my lip was still twice its usual size. I could have had it cured but forgone it, as did he; I admired him for that. 

You know, few people can wear leather well. He's one of those, it clung to his thighs and ass like a second skin and that's what struck me dumb - not the fact that his blade was bigger then mine, the little shit. I know someone started that rumor; they _will_ be strung up once I find them.

For a moment, unreadable slate eyes met mine; for the briefest of seconds, I thought I detected amusement lurking in that smooth, hard gaze. "Are you ready?"

"For you, anytime."

And just like that, shutters fell, he was gone again; that was all right, though. I'd bring him to me again, I'd have him open up…  
…maybe in more ways than one…  
What? Yes, I admired his looks; I'll admit it. One prissy boy in leather: what's not to like? I just smiled, following him as he walked towards the training center. It was already humid in here and the little sway in his stride did nothing to help me; I was wearing my long gray trench- never went anywhere without it - after all; it had pissed off three instructors. 

Squall headed for one of the wider clearings, making sure that no T-Rex was about to pounce on us. Then he set his blade down, shrugging out of his jacket. His white tank was already sticking to his skin, and he readjusted his gloves, arching a brow at my coat. I followed suit, thinking that perhaps less clothing would be a wiser idea. "Rules?"

"No magic - unless we end up having to cure each other - blade alone."

"Good enough for me," he took five steps back, falling into his stance as I swung Hyperion in a testing arc, checking her weight. Everything seemed fine and I smirked, wriggling my fingers at him…  
_come to me, Squall_  
…silver eyes flared, answering the challenge. 

We were dancing; it wasn't a duel: wasn't training, wasn't me trying to grab the upper hand. Our blades met - drew back - met again. We spun and circled about each other, sometimes, pressed close: skin to sweat slicked skin, clothes suffocating us. 

A brief respite had us both out of our shirts, Squall gulping water. I took the opportunity to admire the lean lines of his body, flesh far paler then mine; he should always wear leather, I decided. Were it my choice, that's all he'd ever wear - when I allowed him to wear anything - it looked so good against his skin. He caught me staring…

"Your necklace, what does it mean?" I covered up that little mistake nicely.

"It's my- " there was a pause, as his eyes narrowed. 

"I'm not going to tease you, I like the design, which is why I asked."

"A guardian. He's my guardian. Griever."

"Griever…" I mulled over the name for a moment. I didn't know at the time what that name would mean to me in the months to come; what it meant to him. Squall turned away, leaning over to pick up his shirt and I nearly choked.   
He wasn't wearing anything under those pants.

He brushed some grass off his tank, pulling it back on, then looked at me again, "Same time tomorrow?"

I nodded, lifting my bottle to down some water; anything to get my mind off what my eyes just _wouldn't_, trailing down his stomach. I must have made a noise, because he shook his head at me slightly, and without even so much as a 'see you tomorrow', he left.

***

He was waiting for me, leaning against the wall, hip thrust out slightly, belts hanging. I didn't understand the belt thing; I _still_ don't…even after he showed me some of the more **_creative_** uses for them.  
Wouldn't you like to know what they were?   
I'm not telling you. 

I offered him a winning smile; I still like to think his lips quirked up slightly before he pushed himself off the wall, blowing his bangs out of his eyes,"You're ten minutes late."

"So sorry." I wasn't. After all, I had a good reason for being detained. It involved one five-foot-nothing blonde boy, who had a particularly bad habit of shooting off his mouth; lessons had to be taught and by Hyne, I was a perfect teacher.

"Mmm," was all I got as he turned, walking ahead of me into the center: again. Not that I didn't mind the view - it was perfect - but I have this thing about people walking in front of me; makes me feel like I'm being led around on an invisible chain. So, I moved to the left, coming up to walk beside him; he glanced up at me, amusement flickering again in his eyes. 

Another thing, I am not here to provide your amusement; I'm here to either kick your ass or teach you a lesson. Don't laugh at me. That's more then likely to get you put on the list and have Fujin sent to your room really late.

If I didn't know better, I'd think this was a date and Squall had chased away all the monsters for us. I shrugged out of my coat, folding it neatly this time, setting it down on the grass; then the vest. I straightened my gloves, checked over Hyperion before rising, and turned to face Squall…

He was staring at me, a flash of pink running along his lower lip; I was envious. I wanted it to be running along mine before being coaxed into my mouth - slowly - savoring his taste. 

He blinked once when he realized I was staring at him, and calmly took off his own jacket, reaching down to pick up his gunblade, "Shall we dance?"

"Let's," I smiled, striding forward as he rose, preparing to turn and face me. 

I grabbed his wrist and his eyes widened ever so slightly, before narrowing at me, "Just what do you think you're doing?"

"Dancing." It was an honest reply; it was! I never said what sort of dancing we'd be doing. 

I pulled him towards me easily enough, other arm snaking around his waist as I leaned forward, pressing my lips against his. It was pure bliss for all of ten seconds before I was pushed roughly away. He took a step back, scowling. 

I just smiled, "I want you to give it your all, sweetheart. Come at me with meaning this time, not like last week when I was playing with you."  
_Score._

Instead of the faint silver sheen they'd held after I kissed him, his eyes had turned dusky, dangerous. I moved back, resting Hyperion against my shoulder as he raised the Revolver again, arms shaking ever so slightly. And I just nodded and he leapt at me, going from a fucking standstill to a blur of motion; if I hadn't blocked, I think he would have taken my head.

"What the hell are you? A fucking Highlander now?" I laughed at him, and it irked him ever more. 

Good. I wanted him angry before he fell against me, panting. I wanted to drink it from his mouth as he struggled against me and against himself; for before he'd pushed me away, he sighed…and in that moment, that one soft sound, I knew I could claim him…   
…and claim him I would.

Our battle was fierce this time; neither of us would escape without being marked. But, having a lighter weapon, I knew what it would come down to, and as I'd predicted Squall finally fell against me, our blades still crossed against each other. I reached up with my free hand to brush his bangs back, trying to catch my breath. It hurt to look into his eyes, tempest tossed, anger and longing swirling about. As I slowly pushed our blades aside, his lashes lowered as he tilted his head back, offering himself to me. 

And I did what any victor would do; I claimed him. Crushing him against me, weapons falling from our hands - I don't know which of us fumbled more to peel off his shirt - gloves tossed aside so we could touch each other, lips following; fingers, soon after…

I said that I loved his mouth, didn't I? I still do. Sometimes, I wake up at night, imagining his lips wrapped around me, eyes glittering the moonlight. In fact, I have a scar from that first time, in the training center; I remember his tongue running over the wound, cheek nuzzling mine, as if in apology. 

Not the first scar he would give me, but the one I treasure most.   
Every so often, I replay the day in my head, not forgetting how he tasted, how he smelled, and the way he spurred me on with urgent kitten noises…   
…and I regret; boy do I ever fucking regret letting him go to chase after my dream.

_when he was what it was all along_

--------  
First attempt at a Seifer POV. Once again, many props to Xi for looking it over for me and making it so badass. ^^   
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys. Lyrics are from Mouth, by Bush. 


End file.
